


That Simple

by sweetiejelly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to an accidental spell, Arthur now knows Merlin has magic. He doesn't know what to do with this information. And then he does. Because sometimes some things are that simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Simple

**Author's Note:**

> My first Merthur fic written back in Feb. 2010. Originally posted [at LJ](http://sweetiejelly.livejournal.com/110555.html).

A sheet twists in a cot, its rough surface scratching at Merlin’s thin britches. He twitches and mumbles. Any ordinary person would interpret it as gibberish dream speak, nothing to worry about.

A sheet twists in a bed, its downy surface rolling over Arthur’s bare back. He twitches and mumbles, tumbles fast as a light shoots up around his head, wounding its way down, down into his open mouth.

~~

Arthur blinks. He’s at the edge of the woods, without his sword or armor, rooted to the earth like a tree. He can’t move, just observe. Loads of his dreams start like this, back at the battlefield, back to trace over what worked and what didn’t. And each time, his heart speeds up just at sound of clashing swords in the air. This time, however, his heart speeds up because there are no sounds, nothing besides the quiet rustle of leaves and the eerie whoosh of wind.

The sound when it comes is a roar, inhuman even in a dream. And the roar segues into a tongue twister of a shout, relentless as the trees sway, branches stirred into disarray. Arthur blinks away the confusion, the distraction and squints straight ahead. In the clearing he sees himself in miniscule down on the soil, immobile. Incredulously, he watches the dragon bow its head, docile in front of Merlin - _Merlin!_ – who was shaking with emotion. A thousand words pass over his servant’s features as he picks up a weapon, looks to be near tears. Then a pause. “Go!” Merlin dismisses the dragon with more mercy than Arthur has ever seen.

Arthur finds he’s holding his breath. Merlin is – no, no, no! Merlin can _not_ be.

~~

Arthur lies still in bed, watching the sun rise in the sky. He wishes sometimes everything were that simple. The sun rises and sets. The magic is always bad. But then more images, contradictory, flood his head. He’s conceived of magic, some part of him tells him this is true, despite Merlin’s cover up. And Merlin is magic. After last night, Arthur couldn’t deny that is true. Some part of him always knew the little stab he took at the dragon before he passed out couldn’t have been the mortal wound Merlin claimed it to be. Some part of him also knew he wanted to believe it to be true. The magic is always bad. And Merlin – Merlin isn’t. Arthur clenches his jaw and stares harder at the sun, as if all of this were its fault.

His door tumbles open unceremoniously and he hears more than sees Merlin trip over himself and just rescues the breakfast tray in time. “You still in bed?!” Merlin’s voice is edged with tease and slightly irreverent as always. “You’re going to go blind staring at the sun like that.” Arthur clenches his jaw harder and stares into the sun harder, letting it light up his eyes the way he sometimes thought he saw Merlin’s eyes lit up, all gold and magical.

“Are you _pouting_?” Merlin rounds to stand in front of him, blocking the sun and letting it backlight his form. Right then Merlin looks most unearthly, his big ears exaggerated and set to burnt yellow against the light. “That is most un-royal like behaviour, you know?” Merlin’s still prattling on, ignoring Arthur’s look. “Even for a _prat_.”

Arthur loses his calm. It’s not that he hasn’t gotten used to Merlin calling him prat at least twice a day. It’s that Merlin is the prat for practising magic in so open a manner, even while he knows it’s punishable by death. “You idiot!” Arthur pins Merlin easily down on his bed, spreads the surprised tendons of wrists against his pillows. Merlin’s eyes widen and his mouth rounds in surprise. “What-?” Arthur just digs his knees down harder against Merlin’s thighs, against the taut stretch of Merlin’s warmth. Merlin still smells of the bread from the kitchen and something sticky sweet. Probably he has managed to score yet another peach from the pantry. Arthur is starting to get Merlin’s awkward charm, how it hits you right in your heart when you’re not looking. Or maybe this is to do with dark magic once again. He tightens his hold.

“Ah!” Merlin grimaces and looks up at him in confusion. “Are you still mad about the hole in your boots? It was an accident! And I’ll repair it, if you let me go.” Merlin’s fingers go slack as they curl almost helplessly. It only angers Arthur as he wonders what else Merlin lies about.

“Really? With what? Threads and needles?”

Merlin scoffs at him. “How else? And what concern is it of yours? I told you I’ll take care of it.”

Arthur leans heavier against Merlin’s thin frame. “Take care of it? Like you took care of the dragon?”

Merlin’s lashes flutter nervously, reminding Arthur of the grace of butterflies and the ease of a kite. “Wha-what are you talking about?” Merlin sucks in a breath, his lips almost quivering inches from Arthur’s. “You- _you_ dealt it –”

“- a mortal blow. Yes, I know. That’s what you told me.”

Merlin’s breathing hard now but he’s not looking away. His jaw works as if trying out different lies to see how they feel on his tongue.

Arthur doesn’t give him a chance to choose. “You lied to me, Merlin. I trusted you like I’ve trusted no other and you lied to me.”

Merlin does look away then, his lips working like ripples on a pond, sinuous. Then he looks back straight into Arthur’s eyes, determined, and Arthur could see a sea of sadness there welling up. “Balinor was my father.”

Whatever Arthur expected him to say it wasn’t this. “What? The dragon lord?”

Merlin just nods and Arthur feels the fight go out of him. He flops next to Merlin on the bed. “I’m sorry.” Now a lot of things make sense, how Merlin’s able to talk to the dragon, why Merlin was so down after they lost Balinor to an arrow, those thousands of words that passed over Merlin’s features as he faced down the dragon.

“Are you going to turn me in?” Merlin crosses his arms over his chest as if he’s cold and stares straight up at the canopy of the bed.

Arthur feels the thunder of beats against his heart, feels the sun beating down on his chest. He says nothing.

It’s only when Merlin makes to get up that one of Arthur’s arms shoot out to pin him down again. “You _idiot_!”

This time his touch is gentler. He smoothes a thumb down the plane of Merlin’s cheek, down to tip Merlin’s mouth open as he fists the other hand in Merlin’s hair. “Tell me you didn’t put a spell on me.”

Merlin looks confused for two heartbeats and then he gets it, his eyebrows hitching up almost as dramatically as Gaius’ could. “No! I swear it! I don’t even know _how_.” He licks at his lips nervously and flicks eyes almost shy up to Arthur’s. “I mean – most of the time I don’t know what I’m doing. A lot of things happened by accident. Like-like the hole in your boots,” he admits sheepishly, the blush warm on his cheeks and ears. “But I will take care of it just like –“

Arthur doesn’t let him finish that thought, which is probably a precursor of twenty more thoughts. He’s pretty sure Merlin charmed him without meaning to. Right now he’s pretty sure Merlin’s kissing him back without meaning to, his lips awkward as they tried to keep up. Arthur relents, slows the bruising speed. This is Merlin, after all. And then another thought strikes him and he tries to back away. This time Merlin’s the one who crushes their lips together, who surprises Arthur once more with the humanity of his lips, his tongue, with his magical hands.

“Did you steal the peach?” Arthur finally lifts off enough to ask. He really wants to know.

Merlin’s lips are bright red and his eyes have taken on a glaze of gold. “Huh?” He blinks a few times then manages to look up from Arthur’s neck. “Gwen gave it to me. She had two extras. I brought you one –”

And that’s all Arthur needs to know. Sometimes things are that simple. “Merlin?”

“Arthur?”

“You talk too much.”

A sheet twists in a bed, its downy surface rolling over two bare backs…


End file.
